


Apetalous

by etamine



Series: A/B/Overse [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, kidnapped!prompto, omega!Prompto
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-08 03:12:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16421285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etamine/pseuds/etamine
Summary: "But now, the Emperor himself had requested his attention. He’d asked where the vessel for his heir was, that Besithia created all of those years ago. And he’d thrown a fit when he told him that the vessel had gone missing 17 years ago, during break in 247. With the empire and its extensive reach though, there was no hiding for long."Prompto was supposed to meet Noctis at 8:15pm.Part of A/B/Overse, but does not need to be read with the other parts.





	Apetalous

Verstael Besithia had come to be known as the greatest scientist of his generation, and it was not without good reason.

 

He’d figured out how to power Graelea without taking over half of the city’s land. He’d created the most advanced AI known to mankind, to the point where humans were no longer sent to fight Niflheim’s battles. He’d developed a near perfect cloning process. He’d pinned down the exact genetics of alpha and omega traits. He’d cured leukaemia, since that had been a notable side effect observed in those working in the magitek production facilities. He’d isolated the Starscourge. He’d developed the process to power humans with daemonic miasma. 

 

Sure, he may have been one of the more eccentric figures among the Niflheim government, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t the most deserving of his position. He’d brought them closer to their goal of surpassing Solheim than anyone else before him, and anybody who would come after him.

 

It was difficult to ensure funding for all of his projects though, despite their brilliance. Niflheim was an empire after all, it – and all scientific research funding - was mercy to the whims of the emperor. And the emperor’s attention was fleeting. The man had no vision, no scientific mind, and couldn’t understand the true value in research.

 

And so Verstael Besithia had come up with a plan.

 

It was well known that the Emperor was publicly a perpetual bachelor. Behind the scenes however, anybody high up enough in Gralea knew that he’d had a series of omega lovers, but that none of them had fit his type well enough to be kept long term.

 

So he’d developed one himself. A perfect fit. One from his DNA, who would be loyal to him, who would be able to ensure a constant stream of funding from the emperor’s purse.

 

It would have all been perfect. Were it not for those damned Lucians, anyway. He’d tried to create another, before a more interesting project had grasped his attention and he’d never returned to it.

 

But now, the Emperor himself had requested his attention. He’d asked where the vessel for his heir was, that Besithia created all of those years ago. And he’d thrown a fit when he told him that the vessel had gone missing 17 years ago, during break in 247.

 

With the empire and its extensive reach though, there was no hiding for long.

 

* * *

 

 

“Dude, Justice Monsters 5 is out today,” said Prompto, raising his arms in triumph. “We have to go play it!”

 

“Iggy’s going to kill me if I don’t go to this meeting though,” groaned Noctis. “I skipped the last three.”

“Shit, dude,” groaned Prompto, shaking his head. “Can you come out later then? Or use your princely influence to get them to put a machine in your apartment?”

 

“Hopefully,” said Noctis, pulling up the carefully colour coded schedule that Ignis sent to his phone every week. “I’m free at 8. So we can meet at the arcade at 8:15?”

 

“Sick,” grinned Prompto, reaching to give the alpha a squeeze around his shoulders. “I’ll see you there.”

 

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride home?” asked Noctis, as they walked towards the car that was waiting for him. “I always feel weird about letting you walk that far. And it’s the shitty areas you go through.”

  
“It’s the refugee areas,” corrected Prompto, poking his side. “I’m a refugee and I can speak Niffish so I know what they’re saying. I’m one of them. I’m good.”

 

“You’re Lucian,” huffed Noctis, shaking his head. “Says so on your passport.”

 

“On paper only, my dude,” said Prompto, shaking his head. “Anyway, I’m gonna go. I’m not getting killed by Iggy for making you late to your meeting! Plus I want to get curry at one of the stalls. Since you won’t get it with it having veggies and all,” he said, giving Noctis one more squeeze before turning to head back home.

 

If it had been raining, he’d have more than happily taken the ride from Noctis. But today was bright skies, and fluffy clouds, and the foreign flowers that populated the gardens of the refugee district would be in full bloom, ripe for photographs.

 

The refugee district got a lot of shit, and Prompto could see why. For a huge group of outsiders, they sure weren’t welcoming to people who weren’t one of them. Part of that was due to them being dumped in one of the more undesirable parts of Insomnia, with more police patrols than anywhere else bar the citadel. The language barrier also didn’t help – he’d heard more Niffish spoken in the streets here than anything else as he’d grown up. He’d grown up with it as a second language, used to talk to the people around, and then would go home and switch languages for his adoptive parents.

 

These people had raised him more than his parents had though, really. There was always an elderly woman willing to watch him as she remembered the grandchildren still trapped in Gralea, or a street vendor who’d ask about his day at school as he bought food, or a smaller kid who’d come to him with questions about how to fix something, be it a bike, or games controller, or one of the toy guns that were extremely popular here but not anywhere else in Insomnia.

 

They’d taught him about their (his?) culture. They’d taught him their (his?) language. They’d told him about the politics of Niflheim, of the true stories that didn’t make it outside of Gralea’s walls, of why they fled.

 

And it had benefited Lucis more than once. Now Noctis was trying to get him involved more at the palace, he’d been able to translate hushed conversations between Niflheim’s envoys for the King. On the weird diplomatic trip to Gralea that he’d been invited to, he’d been able to fill in the royal retinue about exactly who was who, and what their aim was, and had been able to tell them the stories that had been told to him.

 

It was weird though, feeling split in two. He was loyal to Lucis, that was for sure. Lucis had taken him in as a baby, rescued him from whatever torture had led to him having black ink in his skin that regrew no matter what he did to it, fed him, clothed him, and given him a good life. His best friend was going to be the fucking King one day, and he was undergoing medical testing to see if he was suitable to bear the King’s heir since Luna wasn’t going to be able to, being an alpha her.

 

At the same time though, it was undeniable that he wasn’t Lucian by heritage. He was blonde and violet eyed, with freckles and skin more suited to Niflheim’s mountains than the warm days Insomnia was blessed with. He liked spicy food, and hearty recipes designed to keep people feeling full and warm. He was good with guns, and technology, and science and maths, which was pretty stereotypical if you asked him.

 

“Prompto!” called one of the street vendors in Niffish as he wandered, beckoning him over. “I’ve got some new camera accessories in!”

 

“Really?” asked Prompto excitedly, making his way over. “Which ones?”

 

“Smuggled straight from Gralea. Besithia’s lab created a macro lens that keeps the colours perfect,” he said, leading him into the small building behind. “Obviously we can’t keep it on the street with it being Niflheim tech, but…”

 

“Dude, I get it, show me,” said Prompto, wandering after him. When he got to the room though, and found the exact same lens he’d seen from another vendor weeks ago. “Huh? This one?”

 

“Yeah, that one,” said the vendor, and suddenly there was a door slamming behind him, and a strong arm pinning him back against a hard body, and a cloth that stank of chemicals being clamped over his nose and mouth, muffling his screams.

 

And then there was blackness, and nothing more.

 

* * *

 

 

Noctis’ mind was racing now. It was nearly 9pm, and there was no sign of Prompto at the arcade.

 

He’d called, and texted, and got Iggy to call and text too, and nothing.

 

Prompto was the kind of person who’d be early to everything he possibly could – and with it being the release day for Justice Monsters 5, Noctis had half expected that he’d have been at the arcade for 7, ready to bagsy their spot on the machine for when Noctis arrived. 

 

“Listen,” sighed Gladio from behind him, arms folded over his chest. “I’m sure he’s just fallen asleep, kid’s usually out at 5am running. But if you’re really that worried, Princess, we can go to his house and check.”

 

“Good,” said Noctis, standing up. “What if we don’t find him though?”

 

“Then we get Iggy to track his phone. He’s got to be somewhere,” shrugged Gladio, leading him out to the car.

 

The ride to the Argentum household was probably one of the quieter ones they’d had. It wasn’t completely silent of course, since Gladio was still kind of a shitty driver and would swear at other drivers frequently, but Noctis wasn’t exactly in the mood for conversation.

 

Something was telling him that things weren’t okay. And even though Noctis hated the whole gender norms bullshit, Prompto was an _omega_. He was short, and thin, and easily distracted, and although he had access to the armiger he wasn’t exactly known for his fighting prowess.

 

“Shit, stop! That’s his bag,” shouted Noctis, spotting Prompto’s backpack on top of a trash can. The badges and patches that covered it marked it as the blonde’s, they didn’t sell bags in that state after all.

 

Gladio frowned, before pulling the car over and summoning a dagger from the armiger. Iggy was more proficient with the weapon for sure, but a broadsword would just raise people’s hackles if they saw him with one in this part of town.

 

Noctis got out of the car quickly, making his way over to the bag and unzipping it. “Fuck! All his stuff is still in here,” he said, hands shaking as he pulled out Prompto’s camera. “He wouldn’t have gone without this Gladio. You know he wouldn’t.”

 

“Fuck,” hissed Gladio, getting his phone out to call Cor.

 

* * *

 

 

Prompto’s head was banging when he first woke. It kind of reminded him of how he’d felt after the first time he and Noctis had tried drinking – they’d tried to drink down whiskey that they’d stolen from a few of the glaives as quickly as humanly possible, and it hadn’t turned out well.

 

This was worse than that though. He felt like his head was going to explode, and the bright lights aimed down at him weren’t exactly helping him. His stomach felt like he hadn’t eaten in days, but at the same time it was churning, and his throat kept on closing up and his stomach was contracting like he was going to vomit up whatever was left in there.

“Finally awake are you then 05953234?” came a voice. It was accented Lucian, obviously someone who wasn’t a native speaker. And the sound of that number being spoken out loud made Prompto’s blood run cold. He tried to look down, see if his wristband had been taken off, and he realized that he was completely naked, strapped to a metal table.

 

“You know, when I first saw you, I thought my project had been a failure. Too thin. Scrawny. How were you ever supposed to bear an heir?” the voice continued, and Prompto finally saw the speaker. He knew he was completely fucked now.

 

Of all the leaders in Niflheim that he’d heard of, Head Scientist Verstael Besithia was by far the one that people in Insomnia’s refugee districts were most scared of. He’d been classed as Niflheim’s greatest hope at one point – he’d saved mothers the pain of sending their sons off to war by creating robotic soldiers to do the fighting instead, he’d cured deadly diseases, he’d powered the city in a clean, efficient way. The mind of Besithia was incredible by all accounts.

 

But the man had gone mad, or perhaps he always had been. Human experimentation, kidnapping, rape, torture, concentration camps, putting people to death. None of it was off limits to him.

 

Emperor Iedolas was widely classed as a puppet. Chancellor Izunia was his puppetmaster, keeping him in line, but nobody quite knew why. High Commander Nox Fleuret was a traitorous turncoat. Brigadier General Ulldor was a twisted, bitter man.

 

But Head Scientist Besithia? Prompto had felt his skin crawl whenever people had spoken about him.

 

“And then you came to Gralea on a diplomatic mission, didn’t you? And I saw that you’d stuck to the plan after all! Sure, you’re fucking a prince, instead of an emperor, but it’s close enough,” laughed Besithia, coming to the side of the examination table. “You’re doing almost exactly what you were born to do!”

 

“What do you want from me?” cried Prompto. He didn’t understand what the man was saying at all – did he want to get to Noctis? Did he want to get to King Regis? What the fuck was he on about?

 

“It’s not about what I want from you. It’s about what the Emperor is going to want,” said Besithia, a cruel smile forming around his lips.

 

* * *

 

  

“Marshal? His phone has been tracked to a pond,” came the voice of one of the Kingsglaive, making their way into the room. “We’re searching it now, but so far nothing has been found.”

 

“Do we have anything new on the security footage?” asked Cor, turning to look at him.  

 

“We have him walking into Garden Promenade at 6:12, and then nothing from then on. Garden Promenade has no cameras on it. The next camera we’d expect him to appear on if he was going home is Royal Parade, but we saw nothing,” sighed the Glaive.

 

“Then we need to start questioning people on the streets between the two. People know him there,” said Cor.

 

“We already have people on the ground. I’ll alert you when we hear anything more,” said the glaive, bowing before leaving the room.

 

Cor sighed, returning to the set of medical files. They were dusty, having been locked away for almost seventeen years now. He’d ordered them to be locked away after the baby he’d brought back to Insomnia all those years had been thoroughly examined, making sure there was no device under his skin that could be used by the empire for anything malicious.

 

He’d had them translated at the time, and the loose pages of translation were still interspersed between the actual notes. About how Verstaels’ DNA had been manipulated to produce this baby, how he had specifically selected the omega genes of a woman from Altissia who was one of his prisoners because of her reputation for being fertile, how he’d tested hundreds of embryos to find which had the correct DNA manipulation, how he’d altered the hair and eye colour slightly to fit the Emperor’s tastes and taken DNA from his previous lovers to get it dead on, how he’d made absolutely sure that as soon as the child was born on October 26thhe’d had colostrum and then the mother had been killed.

 

They’d made him feel sick enough the first time. Combined with the memory of seeing a blonde baby, with cannulas and ports and beaming like the sun when he was shown the slightest bit of attention, it had been too much.  Nevermind now that he’d seen Prompto grow up, and become best friends with the normally quiet and reserved prince, bringing him out of his shell. Seen him starting his training with the Crownsguard, being clumsy and poor at hand to hand but deadly accurate with a gun in his hand.

 

The plan in the protocol set out in the medical notes was that the child was to be gifted to the emperor at the age of 18. Cor couldn’t help but think that Prompto’s 18thbirthday being less than two weeks ago was a coincidence. He’d gone missing in a street filled with vendors who still had contact with the empire, if the smuggled goods that they sold were any clue. It was a consistent problem with those districts – they’d fled to Insomnia, and it was obviously for a reason, but at the same time they still had contact with people in Niflheim, and there was no way to vet who they were talking to and why.

 

He remembered when Prompto had been brought along on a diplomatic trip to Gralea. It had been a bold move – they’d brought a refugee from Besithia’s labs to a meeting with Besithia himself had been sat in. The Prince had insisted though, there was no convincing him to go without his best friend. Besithia had given Prompto a knowing look the entire way through it, his eyes more focused on the blonde than anything else.

 

If Besithia knew, the Emperor had to know too. Surely.

 

* * *

 

 

“Noctis had been most unsettled since Prompto went missing, hasn’t he?” sighed Regis, shaking his head.

 

“Indeed he has, Your Highness,” said Ignis, his eyes focusing on the floor. “He has not left his room in days. As such, I thought it prudent to come and let you know that he won’t be attending dinner.”

 

“See to it that he eats,” sighed Regis. “And reassure him that the Glaive have been instructed to find Prompto. It will not be long until he is back, safe and sound.”

 

“I can assure you that I will,” nodded Ignis, bowing before taking his leave.

 

“Is there any update, Clarus?” asked Regis with a sigh, looking over to his shield at last. “I fear that Noctis is not going to feel any happier until we have his friend back here with us.”

 

“The Marshall believes the Empire has him. Given the location that he went missing,” said Clarus, moving from his position at the side of the room. “Additionally, the empire has cancelled the engagement you were supposed to have with them next week. Aldercapt is supposedly too busy to meet.”

 

“Hmm,” said Regis, lacing his fingers together and resting his chin on them. “That makes me most uneasy.”

 

“Your Highness,” said Nyx, as he opened the door. “We’ve been sent a video. Of Prompto.”

 

“Is he well?” asked Regis, reaching for his cane.

  
“No,” sighed Nyx. “The emperor has him.”    


End file.
